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The 

Funny Land Boys 


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He softly crept to the woman^s door^ 

And listened^ and listened^ o^er and o'er. 


Page XXVI 


THE 

Funnyland 

Boys 



PHILADELPHIA 

DREXEL BIDDLE, PUBLISHER, 
1903 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copibs RecoivecJ 

SEP 25 1903 

Copyright Entry 
CLASS ^ XXc, No 
COPY 3. 





COPYRIGHT 1903 

BY 

A. J. DREXEL BIDDLE 


All ‘Rights R^eser^ved 




PRINTED BY THE DREXEL BIDDLE PRESS 



Dedicated to 
Very Little Folks 
by 

the Author 









CHAPTER 

1 — How Time Marched on for Them, 

2 — The Funnyland Boys on a Drive, . 

3 — The Likeness, True to Life, . 

4 — The Butterfly Hunt, 

5 — The Broken Vase, .... 

6 — The Horse’s Revenge, . 

7 — The Reception, .... 

8 — The Little White Chap Studies Music, 

9 — The Funnyland Boys at a Musicale, 

10 — The Funnyland Hunt, . 

11 — The Christmas Dinner in Funnyland, 

12 — The New Cook in Funnyland, 

13 — A Garden Secret .... 

14 — Moss Peter’s Misfortune, 


PAGE 

9 

13 

17 

21 

25 

29 

33 

37 

41 

45 

51 

55 

59 

. 61 





ILLUSTRATIONS 


He softly crept to the woman’s door, — 

And listened, and listened, o’er and o’er. - Frontispiece 


For off went horse, and carriage too — 

And they were left behind. .... 

The Funny Boys came, every one, to have a view 

For over his mouth a butterfly flew. . - - - 

He softly crept to the woman’s door, — 

And listened, and listened, o’er and o’er. 

Until it ran away, and tossed our boy within the pond, 
And with a fiendish neigh, 

Then they bowed themselves out, with a very fine air, 
And our poor little chap was sad. - 

Since they come like the squawk of angry geese, 

And send the boys off in search of peace. 

“ Miss Screech” she sang, at the top of her voice. 
Our hero tried with the rest to rejoice: 

But while they shouted, and laughed, and clapped. 

He sat in his chair and calmly napped. - 


- page 14 

- page 18 

- page 22 

- page 20 ^ 

- page 30 

- page 34 

- page 38 


- page 42 


Alas! our young hunter! the gun gives a kick. 

And knocks our boy heels over head, pretty quick! page 46 

And his little tongue ran, — oh, me! over knife and fork — 

’Till he cleaned them off, — 

’Twas a shocking sight to see. .... page 52 

They laughed at him well, for lo! he had hatched, 

A chicken out at one end. 


page 56 



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How Time March-ed on 
^ $ for Them ^ $ 



IX 



I J 


THE OTHERS WENT SKIMMING ALONG THE WAY, 
AND HE— TRIPPED UP IN A TRICE. 


X 


HOPF TIME 
MARCH- ED ON 
FOR THEM 


ID you ever hear of the Funny- 
land boys? 

Such funny white chaps are 
they ! 

The clothes they wear, and 
the things they do 
Are not heard of every day. 
Once in awhile they come 
along 

In search of some jolly fun, 

And all of them find it, save the chap 
Who is called the unlucky one. 

He and his friends went out one day 
To skate on Funny-land ice. 

The others went skimming along the way. 
And he — tripped up in a trice. 

But the little white chap, so wise was he. 
He was up again in a minute. 

You may laugh,” said he, “ but it’s ‘try, 
try again,’ 

Makes half the fun there is in it ! ” 


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XI 



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XII 




FOR OFF WENT HORSE, AND CARRIAGE TOO, 
BUT THEY WERE LEFT BEHIND. 


XIV 


THE FUNNY BOYS 

ON A 

DRIVE 


HE funny boys of Funny-land 
Declared they’d have a drive, 
And ’mongst new scenes^ and 
in new ways 

Their drooping hearts revive. 
So our especial “ Funny Boy’’ 
To add to his especial joy, 

A pretty little girl invited, 
(For “courtesies” he never 
slighted.) 

But March had lately come to town 
Just in the mood for fun. 

And as it happened, served a trick 
On our “unlucky” one. 

For as the driver took his seat. 

The wind it blew, and the rain it beat. 
Our hero and his hat were parted. 

He and the girl were broken-hearted. 

For off went horse, and carriage too. 


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XV 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

mrs 


But— they were left behind. 

While boisterous March still played them 
tricks 

In merriment unkind. 

But yet — our plucky hero cried — 

‘‘ When wind is o’er and rain has dried, 
We’ll have our drive — for it is plain 
Success must follow ‘ try again I ’ ” 



XVI 





The Funnyland Boys 
The Likeness “ True to Life' 



XVII 



XVIII 


THE 

LIKENESS 
‘‘TRUE TO LIFE^^ 


NTO a studio one day 
The ‘‘Funny Boys” wan- 
dered blithe and gay. 

The little “ unlucky chap,” 
said he, 

“ ni have a portrait made of 
me!” 

Day after day he took his 
“pose,” 

And thought, “How well the portrait 
grows I ” 

Until — the artist’s work quite done — 

The funny boys came, every one. 

To take a view. With smiling face— 

And a majestic, lordly grace — 

Our boy before the easel stood 
And cried, “ My picture is so good 
You’ll all applaud!” He turned him 
round. 


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XIX 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

mrs 


But — lo ! a dreadful smudge was found ! 
The paint the canvas seemed to lack, 

Was found upon our poor boy’s back. 
Only a smirch and blur were seen 
Of the poor chap’s once stately mien. 

The critics laughed — “Well, we’ll declare, 
The unlucky part of you is there. 

And true to life 1 ” Then off they went. 
And left our boy on thought intent. 

“Life has some fizzles!” said he, “ tis 
plain. 

But it also has chances to — try again ! ” 



XX 




BUTTERFLY 
$ H UNT $ j) 



XXI 



FOR OVER HIS MOUTH 
A BUTTERFLY 
FLEW 


XXII 


A 

BUTTERFLY 

HUNT 


ELL, now, here’s butterfly time, 
you know. 

And the Funnyland boys on a 
hunt did go. 

But our little especial chap, > 
said he : 

‘‘I must put some lunch in- 
side of me ! ” 

So down he sat — the poor little sinner I — 
And stuflfed away so much of a dinner 
That over he tumbled to take a nap. 

And so he met with a queer mishap ; 

For over his mouth a butterfly flew. 

And what did another “funnyboy” do 
But try to catch it ! Lo I quick as a wink 
The prize flew off ! but — what do you 
think 

Was caught all snug in the net instead? 

Our little unlucky chap’s big round head 1 


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XXIII 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

sors 

‘‘Hi! what have you there?’’ cried all in 

joy, 

“A butterfly?” “No, indeed — ‘butter- 
boy!’” 

And then they laughed, and our chap 
laughed too. 

And said he, “Any game on a hunt will do! 
But never you mind, I will make it plain 
That I’m king of the hunt 
when — I try, try again.” 




XXIV 


T H E=— 
BROKEN VASE 


XXV 



HE SOFTLY CREPT TO THE WOMAN’S DOOR, 
AND LISTENED, AND LISTENED, O’ER AND O’ER 


XXVI 


THE 

BROKEN 

VASE 


OOR little unlucky chap ! alas I 
One sad, sad day it came to 
pass 

That he must needs a dusting 
go, 

Whether his comrades would 
or no. 

He flourished his duster in 

the air I 

He whiskered it boldly everywhere I 
The dust it flew! and the duster too, 

Till what — at last — did the poor boy do 
But break and ruin beyond repair, 

A wonderful vase both new and rare I 
Then quick as a wink a comrade wrote 
The direful news — and carried the note 
To the woman who owned the vase. Ah 
me I 

Our poor little chap I how scared was he I 


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XXVII 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

mrs 

He softly crept to the woman’s door, 

And listened, and listened o’er and o’er 
To hear her scold, ere he ran away 
To hide himself for the rest of the day. 
His comrades jeered, and their scorn he 
feared, 

But he was’nt so bad, it soon appeared. 
For he rallied his courage enough to say, 
“ I’m sorry, ma’am I and another day 
I’ll try, and I’ll try more careful to be. 

If now you will kindly pardon me ! ” 

Then the boys stopped laughing, for it 
was plain 

There was ‘‘worth” in a boy who would 
“ try, try again ” 

And our little unlucky chap, 
you see, 

A brave little hero had risen 
to be. 




XXVIII 




XXIX 



UNTIL IT RAN AWAY, 

AND TOSSED OUR BOY WITHIN THE POND 
AND WITH A FIENDISH NEIGH 


XXX 


THE 

HORSE^S 

REVENGE 


UR little chap to town must go, 
All in a sudden hurry. 

To catch the train on time, 
you know. 

He rode his wild horse 
‘‘Flurry.’’ 

The train was in a hurry, too. 
And of? to town it hissed and 
flew. 

Our little chap he spurred his nag 
Until it ran away. 

And tossed our boy within the pond. 

And with a fiendish neigh 
Watched the effect of the mishap 
That seized our small unlucky chap. 

“Oh dearl Oh dear!” the comrades 
cried, 

“ Whatever will we do ? ” 

But he came bobbing up again. 

To his sweet nature true. 

And, “Well,” said he, “ I’ll try again, 
’Tis punctuality — gets a train I ” '• 


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XXXII 





XXXIII 



THEN THEY BOWED THEMSELVES OUT 
WITH A VERY FINE AIR, 

AND OUR POOR LITTLE CHAP WAS SAD. 


XXXIV 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

RECEPTION 


UR queer little chap had a plan 
one day. 

‘^ni give a Reception,” said 
he, 

“ ril clean up my room till it 
shines like a pin. 

And invite the neighbors to 
see 

How fine is my style, and how orderly too. 
Oh, my plan is a wise one, it can’t fall 
through.” 

Well, he bought a broom and a feather 
brush. 

And covered his little round head 
With a paper cap and a tassel so fine. 
And then to his doggie he said, 

^‘Oh, how they will stare when they call 
on me. 



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XXXV 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

^ors 


And I show them a sight well worth to 
see!” 

But, right in the midst of it all, oh dear! 

The neighbors came walking in. 

And — well, they did ‘‘stare,” and they 
saw the sights. 

And grinned a wonderful grin. 

But they bowed full low, and said “how 
do you do? ” 

“ None the better ” growled he, “for see- 
ing you ! ” 



Then they bowed themselves out with a 
very fine air. 

And our poor little chap was sad. 

Said he to his dog, “weVe unlucky again. 
And yet, it won’t pay to get mad. 

Let us try, try again, and the 
neighbors will see. 

That at least Perseverance 
grows well in me 1 ” 


XXXVI 


The Little White Chap 
$ $ Studies Music ^ ^ 



XXXVII 



SINCE THEY COME LIKE THE 
SQUAWK OF ANGRY 
GEESE 

AND SEND THE BOYS OFF IN SEARCH 
OF PEACE. 


XXXVIII 


THE 

LITTLE WHITE CHAP 
STUDIES MUSIC 


ERE is our little white chap 
again, 

He is studying music, ’tis 
very plain. 

But it never will be a success, 
I fear. 

For the sounds cannot be very 
pleasant to hear 
Since they come like the 
squawk of angry geese 
And send the boys off in 
search of peace. 

But the little white chap is not dismayed. 
Of laughter and scorn he is not afraid, 

He blows his horn, and its squawking 
noise — 

However it frightens and worries the 
boys — 

Has only one meaning for him, ’tis plain, 
‘‘And ril learn,” says he, “if I — try, try 
again.” 


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XXXIX 




XL 





The Funnyland Boys 
at a Musicale 



XLI 


I 



“ MISS SCREECH,” SHE SANG AT THE TOP OF HER VOICE, 
OUR HERO TRIED VV^ITH THE REST TO— REJOICE. 

BUT WHILE THEY SHOUTED AND LAUGHED AND CLAPPED, 
HE SAT IN HIS CHAIR AND CALMLY- NAPPED. 


XLII 


THE FUNNYLAND 
BOYS AT 
A MUSICALE 


T was at a party upon a night, 
When little Miss Screech, so 
rosy and bright. 

Was urged to sing. She 
smiled and bowed. 

And then began to ‘‘impress 
the crowd.” 

Alasl for our poor unlucky 
chap! 

He was seized with longings for one wee 
nap! 

And the Funnyland boys were shocked 
to see 

That one of their number so rude could 
be. 

“Miss Screech,” she sang at the top of 
her voice. 

Our hero tried with the rest to — rejoice. 

But while they shouted and laughed and 
clapped. 



XLIII 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

^ors 


He sat in his chair and calmly — napped. 
Ah, me! too soon did they kick him out, 
And when he thought how it all came 
about, 

‘‘Since rudeness,” thought he, “is sure 
to bring pain. 

To be henceforth polite, I will try, try 
again! ” 



XLIV 


— THE 

FUNNYLAND HUNT 


XLV 



AND KNOCKS OUR BOY HEELS-OVER- 

HEAD, PRETTY QUICK 1 XL VI 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

HUNT 


RABBIT! a rabbit! ” our funny 
boy cries, 

A laugh in his voice, and a 
shine in his eyes. 

‘‘I’ll get me a gun, and 
a-hunting I’ll go! 

A rare bit of fun it will give 
me, I know! ” 

So his gun, and himself — on 
a certain bright night 

To the haunts of the rabbit go ofif in 
delight. 

While the Funny boys follow, with jeer 
and with scoflf. 

To see how the glorious hunt will come 
off. 

Alas! our young hunter! The gun gives 
a kick. 

And knocks our boy heels over head, 
pretty quick! 


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XLVII 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

BOYS 

And roaring and banging a great deal too 
soon — 

Very nearly knocks Funnyland up to the 
moon. 

Up gets our poor chap, and off goes the 
safe rabbit! 

Hal ha! ’’ laugh the boys, his the usual 
habit 

That yow should be game in the end, don’t 
you know. 

And you’d better arrange quickly home- 
ward to go! ” 

So our poor little chap, all so sore and 
unlucky. 

Turned wearily home, but his heart was 
still plucky. 

For he said to himself — when he presently 
learned 

That a neighbor had bagged that for which 
he had yearned — 

‘‘Never mind! I caught something^ and 
tho’ ’twas a fall 


XLVIII 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

BOYS 


It was better than just to catch nothing at 
all! 

But I’ll yet be a hunter^ and try, try again 
Till I hit what I aim for, as I will make 
plain! ” 



XLIX 



L 


■4 




The Christmas Dinner 
in Funnyland 





LI 



AND HIS LITTLE TONGUE RAN-OH, ME! 

OVER KNIFE AND FORK-TILL HE CLEANED THEM OFF. 
’TWAS A SHOCKING SIGHT TO SEE. 


LII 


THE 

CHRISTMAS 

DINNER 


NVITED out to a Christmas 
dinner! 

Hurrah for our Funnyland 
boys! 

Better, they thought, than 
books. Oh, yes! 

And far, far better than 
toys! 

“Now mind your manners!” 
their mothers said. 

And “Yes — yes — yes!” nodded each little 
head. 

Oh! what a feast for the boys was there! 
Soups, and turkey, and such! 

And our boys they ate, till the wonder 
grew. 

How they could hold so much. 

And our special chap, I grieve to say. 

Was the first to forget his manners that 
day. 

For he grew so greedy he emptied his 
plate. 


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LlII 


THE 

FUNNYLAND 

BOYS 


And his little tongue ran — Oh, me! — 

Over knife and fork, till he cleaned them 
off. 

’Twas a shocking sight to see. 

And the boys they were so ashamed of 
him, too. 

They hardly knew what to say or do. 

But pretty soon, when they rose to go. 

So stuffed was our boy, alas! 

That he couldn’t move, nor lift a foot. 

And so it came to pass 
That over he tumbled, upon the floor. 

Where all he could do was to lie and — 
roar. 

Then every one went and left him there. 
Till he grew a little thinner. 

And he said to himself, ‘‘ It’ll be a year 
Ere /’// want another dinner. 

But I’ll want new manners.^ and that is true; 
And I’ll try, try again till I get them, too!” 


LIV 


The New Cook 

in Funnyland 



LV 


/ 



THEY LAUGHED AT HIM WELL, FOR LO ! HE HAD HATCHED 
A CHICKEN OUT AT ONE END. 


LVI 


THE NEW 
COOK IN 
FUNNYLAND 


UR little white chap fell out one 
day 

With his mother’s cook. Ah 
me ! 

If I want a thing done the 
very best way, 

I’ll do it myself!” snapped he. 

I’ll boil an egg as never be- 
fore 

An egg was boiled 1 ” Alas 1 
Poor little unlucky chap I ’Twas then 
A strange thing came to pass. 

For as he proudly bore it away 
To show to each watching friend, 

They laughed at him well, for lo I he had 
hatched 

A chicken out at one end. 

^‘When this chicken is grown,” said he,” 
it is plain 

She’ll lay me an egg, then I’ll try, try 
again. 


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LVII 



LVIll 





A GARDEN SECRET 



BT MARY J. SAFFORD 

By kind permission of 
The Churchman 



i 


LIX 


A GARDEN 
SECRET 


lied ‘‘that saucy Paquerette;’^ 
Proudly I lift my head 
’Mid all the fairer sisters 
That grace the garden bed. 

Giant of Battles glows with 
pride, 

La France in beauty 
blushes, 

Mermet, Etoile, the Bride 
are here. 

All tall and stately bushes. 

And yet they envy Paquerette. 

“Why?” do you ask. I’ll tell 
The secret, if you’ll keep it close, 

’Tis all because of Nell. 

She patters down the garden paths. 
With cheeks like Jacqueminots, 
Calling in her sweet, baby voice, 
“Where’s my dear wee, wee rose?” 

Vainly the others nod and strive 
To catch the baby’s eye. 

Nell clasps 7ne in her dimpled hands. 
Envied by all. That’s why. 

By kind permission of The Churchman 



LX 



LXI 


MOSS-PETER’S 

MISFORTUNE 


T the moorland pond, amid the 
reeds, 

With low moans and cries 
for help he pleads. 

Little Moss-Pete r, poor 
harmless mite. 

His wee face wan with terror 
and fright. 

Sits grieving enough to move 
a stone. 

Hear what has befallen the 
hapless one. 

By the forest stream, ’neath a young pine- 
tree, 

Our poor little dwarf lived, gay and free. 
In a snug hollow, under the moss. 

Ne’er had he a trouble, care, or cross. 
Dusky, yet cosy, the twilight gloom 
Filling each nook of the tiny room 
Where, so bright and joyous heretofore. 
In peace he dwelt with his precious store. 
Piled high in this hiding-place secure. 

His treasures he fancied safe and sure. 

In drawer and box, and cupboard and 
shelf. 



LXII 


MOSS- 

PETEWS 

MISFORTUNE 


Lay all the stores he had gathered himself 
Through many along, bright summer day, 
For food while the land owned winter’s 
sway. 

Garnered in sacks were beechnuts brown. 
Fir apples ruddy, juniper gum. 

Fresh juicy m^oss, seeds tender and sweet. 
All sorts of woodland dainties to eat. 
From the pretty acorn’s smooth green cup 
Clear drops of honey the dwarf could sup. 
Collected, with all the other good cheer. 
For solace in coming days so drear. 

Just think 1 that morn in the early dawn 
His way he groped, with many a yawn. 
Through withered leaves to a neighboring 
spring. 

Fresh water for breakfast home to bring. 
Full cheerily back he clambered then, 
Down into his little cave again. 

Alas ! Filled with fear and grief was he 
A piteous scene he now must see ! 

His dear little nest was quite destroyed 
With all the dainties to be enjoyed 
In the wintry cold. Each box and sack. 
Chest and cupboard was emptied, — alack ! 


LXIII 


MOSS- 

PETER^S 

MISFORTUNE 


Ail the tables and seats were shattered, 

All the pots and the pans were battered, 
Cups and platters were dashed to pieces. 
Torn were his coats, his vests, his breeches. 
The wicked dormouse the deed had done. 
Spoiled Peter’s home and away had run. 
Through a crack in the wall her tiny tail 
Still hung, a clue to the robber’s trail. 
Moss Peter made a furious snatch. 

But the nimble sinner failed to catch. 

Sick to the heart to be thus bereaved 
Of his simple joys, he moaned and grieved. 
Cheerless and sad he sat alone 
By the moorland pond, upon a stone ; 
When a rustle of wings fell on his ear, 

A laugh like silvery bells rang clear. 
Beside him, light as a form of air. 

Stood the Elfin Queen, Rosentrant fair. 
“What ails thee, poor Moss-Peter,” cried 
she, 

“Cheer up, little friend, and come with me. 
Till the finch’s song is heard once more. 
Bees seek the violet’s honied store. 

And the willow trees their catkins bear. 
With me the Elf-King’s palace share.” 


LXIV 






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